


Incentive

by KyloTrashForever



Series: Oneshots [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon Compliant, Desert, Emotional Sex, F/M, Inspired by a Trailer, Porn With Plot, The Rise of Skywalker - Freeform, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-12 23:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18456380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: “Care to make a wager?”She narrows her eyes. “What are the stakes?”“If you are right, and you can’t do it— we do things your way from now on.”She perks up, the idea of having something over him more than appealing. “And if you win?”“If I win,” he murmurs, so low it is almost lost to the dry wind of the desert. “Well… I’ll take what I want when the time comes.”Inspired by the EPIX teaser trailer.





	Incentive

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a crackfic based on a bet I swear, but somehow I churned out this weird disconnected emotional nonsense. I have no idea where this came from. I’m sorry. 😂

* * *

 

“This is ridiculous.”

Rey collapses on her back against the warmth of the sand, closing her eyes against the muted sunlight that peeks around the clouds.

They’ve been at this for _hours._ Ben never ceases to find new ways to push her— to get her _ready._ She wonders if she ever will be. To his standards, that is.

He lingers nearby, perched on a bit of stone that is unearthed from beneath the sand, his chin resting against his steepled fingers. He is still as he studies her, and to the naked eye it would almost seem as if he were bored, uninterested even— but Rey knows better.

She knows those eyes are _always_ seeing all there is to see—  always calculating. It’s what’s kept him alive this long.

“You’re holding back,” he murmurs. “You have to _mean_ it.”

She arches her brow, pursing her lips as she pushes up to sit. “You don’t think I mean it? It wasn’t so long ago that I _very much_ wanted to kill you.”

His chest moves with a huff of air— the closest he has ever come to laughter during these sessions. “You never wanted to kill me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because if you did— I think I would be dead by now.”

She feels her mouth part, staring back at him as if he has just sprouted another limb. She has lost track of how many days they have met like this, since they agreed to aid one another. Since they came to the conclusion that it was the only way to conquer this new shared enemy.

In all this time… Ben is not one for compliments, or praise— but _that_ — it is the closest thing to it she’s heard.

She studies him now, her mind flicking back to the days when she thought him her enemy. Sometimes she wonders if he still is. Other times— she finds her eyes lingering at his mouth. It is… strange. To say the least.

She decides not to comment on this would-be praise, knowing he would deny it anyway. It’s funny, for their bond— she still rarely knows what he’s thinking.

Her mind turns to what’s coming then, as it often does, and she can’t help the way dread creeps through her limbs. “Do you think it will be enough?”

He looks to the sky, mouth pursed in a tight line. “Hard to say.”

“But we have to try, right?”

His eyes flick to her then, dark and pensive, and he gives a short nod. “We have to try.”

She heaves out a sigh, pushing to her feet. “Then let’s try again.”

He almost looks amused, and Rey can almost imagine a curling of his lip that she can pretend is a smile. “You don’t seem very enthused.”

“I just don’t see how this is helping.” Her mouth turns down in a frown. “These drills won’t help us against the Imperial Fleet.”

She _knows_ she isn’t imagining his smirk then. “When you are ready— you will be able take on a TIE fighter with nothing but that saber at your hip.”

She glances down at it, furrowing her brow. “That’s impossible.”

“Is it?” He rises to his full height, crossing his arms. “Care to make a wager?”

She narrows her eyes. “What are the stakes?”

“If you are right, and you can’t do it— we do things your way from now on.”

She perks up, the idea of having something over him more than appealing. “And if you win?”

His eyes remain level with hers, and despite the heat of the desert she feels a chill down her spine.

“If I win,” he murmurs, so low it is almost lost to the dry wind of the desert. “Well… I’ll take what I want when the time comes.”

Rey swallows as he turns to gather his saber that rests against the stone, wondering what he could possibly want from her.

She isn’t sure now who she wants to win this wager.

* * *

Weeks.

They’ve been together for _weeks_ now.

Every day he pushes her further, urges _more_ from her, and Rey— Rey gives him all she has. She _has_ to.

His saber strikes against hers— a flash of sparks raining around them in the darkness as she is forced backwards. He holds her there, expression hard and teeth grit tight.

“ _Concentrate_.” His voice is sharp in the cold dark of the desert. The sun has long faded and the sand is awash in moonlight— making the plain on which they stand glow in its light. “Clear your mind. Focus only on me. Only on _taking me down.”_

She pivots, moving to strike from behind, but he is faster— using his larger frame to his advantage as an elbow lands between her shoulders to bat her away. She gnashes her teeth, letting out a snarl.

“You have to do _better_ than this, Rey.” He sounds angry. Always so _angry_ when they are like this. She wonders if she is a disappointment. ”Your enemy may be stronger, _faster,_ and if you are not vigilant— they will _destroy_ you.”

She parries his blade that moves to strike, and her chest heaves with the effort as sweat chills at her temples in the cool night air. “I’m giving you all I _have.”_

“It’s not _good_ enough.”

She charges, sand spraying behind her, and her saber strikes against his with all the force she possesses. He pushes back, the crackle of energy between them a fiery flash, and Ben holds her there like an immovable force.

“You have to do better.” His voice is quieter now, almost lost to the desert. “Or you will die.”

She feels blind anger pool inside her, her frustrations bubbling to the surface to lash out in her words. “So what if I do? What is it to you if I live or die?”

She could almost miss the way his eyes soften, the dancing lights of their blades flickering in their depths as they bore into hers. She might not even notice, if she hadn’t come to know every line of his face.

“It is something I won’t allow.”

She feels a warmth bloom in her chest that has nothing to do with the heated blades that still clash together, and for a moment she is wide open— left completely off guard. He takes advantage, throwing her backwards as she falls to the ground, her saber falling to the sand and going still.

He lets his own fall quiet, his arms dropping to his side as he looms over her defeated figure. For a moment she can only stare up at him, feeling things she’s not felt since that day in the throne room— when she thought Ben had truly turned. She sees a glimpse of that man now— and it has her insides twisting in a knot that leave her unsure.

He clears his throat, breaking away from her gaze. “Get up.”

She nods, rising to her feet and reaching for her blade as she takes her stance yet again. He is calm as he readies himself, and she allows her mind to quiet as he’s taught her to do.

She knows they will be here long into the night, Ben determined to _get her ready_ — his ridiculous wager still hanging in the air as she strives for this impossible expectation he’s placed upon her. Still, when he looks at her like that— she wonders if perhaps she _is_ capable. When he looks at her as he is now… she thinks perhaps she is capable of anything.

He nods heavily, raising his blade.

“Again.”

* * *

Her feet rest against the ground— but she still feels as if she is high in the air. She can hear the dying screams of the the TIE slowing somewhere behind her— and her heart hammers wildly in her chest as her saber still hums at her side.

She hasn’t looked back— not even when the TIE falls silent and she knows he will be there. That he’ll soon be standing behind her and _how is it possible that he was right_?

The days have long blurred— one melding into another, and now she cannot be sure how many have passed. Her body thrums with a violent energy, still feeling the way she’d hurdled through the air. Still feeling the TIE passing just beneath her and if she’d wanted to, if she’d _had_ to— she could have destroyed the pilot within without thought. It would have been easy.

So very easy.

She doesn’t know how many moments pass before she hears the heavy press of his boots against the sand— stilling just behind her. Rey’s eyes are fixed on the sky, willing her heart to calm, her breath to slow.

She’s bested him several times now— possibly more times than he has her. Each time surprises her, but not nearly as much as it does him, she thinks. Even if he does not show it.

When he told her she was ready, for what she still isn’t sure— she’d been hard-pressed to believe it.

She feels it now.

There is nothing that she fears now. Nothing, except—

She turns, finding him quietly studying her with that same passive expression she’s come to know so intimately. The inky black of his cloak billows softly in the arid wind, and his hair flutters around his face as he continues to study her— _always studying her._ What is it that he sees?

“I did it,” she whispers.

“You did.”

“I never thought—”

“I did.”

She sucks in a breath— such a tiny thing, for praise— but she recognizes the tremor of _pride_ through their bond and it is… overwhelming.

“I suppose this means you won.”

He nods. “I suppose it does.”

“And your prize?”

He is quiet, so very quiet for so many seconds and when his mouth parts, he seems to be unsure. “I don’t need it.”

She doesn’t miss it— the way his eyes flick to her mouth and a flash of _something_ flits through her mind— something _impossible_ because surely he doesn’t—

“We should head back.”

She stares back at him, mind still fixed firmly on the flurry of images of her and him and _them_ and she wants to ask. She desperately wants to know.

But she doesn’t ask.

“You never told me. What the point of all this was.”

“Because you weren’t ready.”

He takes a step, moving to walk past her and she senses he is done with this conversation.

“And now I am?”

He stills, his head turning only enough so that she can see the faded scar that _she_ gave him— and he nods. “Yes. You are.”

* * *

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

She doesn’t know whose thoughts were whose in that moment, but it had been so _clear—_ just a brief image of his mouth over hers and there had been no taking it back. She’d seen a glimpse in the desert that day, and she hadn’t known— couldn’t have _possibly—_

His lips are softer than she thought they’d be.

Everything about him is hard, _rigid,_ even— but not this. They move against hers as if every moment has led to this. She wonders if it has.

She knows that Poe and Finn are just outside. That were they to come looking— they would find her here. Find _them_ here— but her worries are lost to warm breath and wandering hands and there is only _this_ and _them_ and _she needs this_ , she realizes.

Maybe they _both_ do.

“We shouldn’t.”

It’s not the first time he’s muttered this phrase, since they found each other like this. Still his teeth graze across her lower lip and _still_ his tongue finds hers and _no—_ they absolutely shouldn’t.

But neither of them seem to be able to stop.

There are clothes on the floor. A pile of blended blacks and whites and his skin against hers is _so good_ and _warm_ and his hands are working through her hair to _tug_ and she _never wants him to stop._

“It will complicate things.” His voice is a hoarse whisper that crackles much like the low fire that burns nearby. “It will make everything more difficult.”

Even as he says the words, his lips are moving along her jaw— frantic and _desperate_ and she knows he is trying to convince _himself_ more than her.

“ _Please_ , Ben.” Her words are like little more than breath  against skin as she imprints them into his jaw, his throat. “ _Please.”_

“Rey,” he chokes out. “There’s no time for this. Tomorrow we— tomorrow we have to—”

“Tomorrow is tomorrow. All we have is tonight.” She finds his eyes then, finding them as wild as she imagines her own to be. “It might be the _only_ time.”

He stares after her, and there is _nothing_ passive about his expression. Everything he’s kept hidden, everything he’s locked away— it is _enormous._

When his lips find hers again— there is no room left for convincing.

* * *

She’s so full. So _full_ of him. She never knew anything could be like this. He moves inside her as if he is made to— and he is, she thinks. This is always how it was meant to be.

His mouth is _everywhere,_ everywhere he can reach— seeking, _tasting—_ wild in the way he explores her with his lips and tongue.

There had been discomfort at first, not pain per se, but a tightness that had been hard to ignore. It had been there in the beginning, but Ben’s hands and his _tongue_ and all the things he’s done to her in this little shelter and now— now there is nothing but this.

The way his hands grip hers when he strokes into her— his cock heavy and thick and _filling_ her in a way she hadn’t thought possible— it’s enough to let her pretend. Pretend they are not themselves and that tomorrow they will wake only to do this all over again— nothing but possibilities ahead. None of the uncertainty that hovers above them.

Their bodies are warm with the heat of the fire and the heat that lingers between them and it is _nothing_ compared to the slick heat of his cock as it dips into her cunt again and again and _again._ There is no room to hide now. No place in his mind she cannot see, and there is _so much_ to see.

The things he thinks about, the things he _wants,_ wants with _her—_ she isn’t alone. She never has been.

“ _Rey.”_

It’s the only word he can manage, it seems— rasping into her skin over and over and it is a plea, a _prayer—_ it is a thousand words all at once.

She knows outside this room there are stars above them, and when her body begins to tremble beneath him, a pleasure unlike anything she’s ever known tearing through her— she can almost see them.

When he follows— she knows nothing will ever be the same.

She doesn’t want it to be.

Tomorrow is uncertain, and she cannot possibly know how it will end. It doesn’t matter. Tonight it is only her, and him, and _them—_ and she clings to this alone.

Whatever comes tomorrow, they will face it.

 _Together_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kylotrashforever)!  
> I made a [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo), come follow me!


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